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CHELSEA’S F. N. P. C.
By: Charles E. Campbell
CHAPTER 8
MORE THAN WILLING AND ACTIVE PARTICIPANTS
True to her word, Blair sent off a text message to Chelsea five minutes after we had dropped her off at her house. She said that her parents said it would be fine for her to go along with us for the weekend. The Sisterhood would be together! Mistress Ilsa’s requirement that we all must attend the ceremonial collaring would be met. None of us knew it at the time, but looking back, in retrospect, this one weekend had the single most profound influences on the F. N. P. C. as a group, as well as on each of the Sisters individually. (I know it changed me forever!). Chelsea would re-examine the direction she wanted the Cult to take, and what her new and expanded role in that would be. Speaking for myself, it was a major turning point in my life, serving as a crystal ball of sorts into the very fiber of my being. It opened up a new vista for me, which, to this day, encompasses everything I do. From the diet I eat, to the amount and type of exercise I get, to how I carry myself, my posture, my make-up, my adherence to strict rules of etiquette, how I wear my hair, skin care.......... In short, everything about me changed that weekend, and I am immensely proud of the direction my life took, and the enormous strides I have made in fulfilling that which I believe is my true destiny.
Chelsea pulled her big Land Rover to the curb in front of my house Saturday morning promptly at 7:45. She was dressed in her signature peasant skirt, with a white sheer blouse, complete with ruffled collar. The blouse was made of such a thin fabric, that Chelsea’s unfettered quarter sized dark brown areolas were very visible through it. The skirt was all but transparent as well, and it was also clear that she wore no underwear beneath it’s billowing pleats. Lauren was in the back seat already, having slept over at Chelsea’s the night before as part of her cover story for her parents. Shaina and I gave our Mom a big hug and kiss, and grabbing our overnight bags, we headed to the car. Chelsea lowered the passenger window so she could wave good-bye to my Mom.
The next pick up was Anastasia. Chelsea stopped right in front of the house. A few seconds later, the front door opened, and Anastasia stepped out, stark naked! She wasn’t even wearing shoes. Clutching a small tote, she closed the front door, and walked, she did not run, she walked down the forty feet of sidewalk and got into the middle seat of the car.
“Jesus Christ, Anastasia,” Chelsea yelped. “What the hell are you doing? What if you parents saw you?”
“They had to take Brandon to a travel soccer game early. They’re not home. Besides, you said we would be spending the whole weekend naked anyway, so I though I get into it early. And......” She suddenly paused, and looked down at her feet.
“And what,” Chelsea asked, pivoting around in her seat to look at Anastasia’s naked body.
“And.........and I’m still really embarrassed about chickening out on the TorD the other day, and thought maybe this could help to make up for it.”
“Well,” Chelsea said, putting the car in drive, “I can say that I for one, am truly impressed with your dedication to the Sisterhood. You have served as a true inspiration to us all.” Chelsea hit the brakes, stopping the car suddenly, and announced, “In fact, I think all of your Sisters should join you in naked solidarity, making this trip together, as one Sisterhood, naked and proud as well.
“Sisters, remove your clothes.”
We all obeyed, except Chelsea, of course, and watched while Anastasia gathered up our clothes. “Take all of the clothes back to your house, Anastasia,” Chelsea decreed. “The Sisterhood has no reason to hide their nakedness this weekend.”
We all watched in horror as Anastasia complied, walking back to her house, and disappearing inside. She returned empty handed. I’m sure Shaina and Lauren were thinking the same fearful thoughts as I was. How would we be able to get back into our homes when we got home the next afternoon! I was suddenly very grateful that the Land Rover was very high off the ground and that it’s barely legal tinted glass was so dark.
We picked up Blair, waited at the curb while she stripped, and we were off. Not wanting Blair to have any false sense of modesty that we had been denied, Chelsea made her throw her clothes out the window a few blocks from her home. No turning back now. No safety net.
“Put your feet on the seat, Sister Hanna,” Chelsea ordered suddenly. “Open your folds to the glory of nature’s sunlight.”
My pussy was wide open. The bright early morning sunlight streaming through the windshield illuminated it, warming it, exposing every minute detail of the fragile flesh petals..
“Shaina, come up and worship the folds.”
“Sisters,” she continued, “open up your folds like Sister Hanna, there can be no secrets in the Sisterhood. You may all pleasure yourselves. Fill the car with the mingling of the sweet scents from your sacred folds”
Four naked girls now had their feet up on the car seats, their knees splayed, pussies gaping, fingers rubbing, delving deep into the velvety soft petals standing guard over the sacred abyss. Shaina got on her knees on the passenger side floor and buried her face in my already wet pussy. There is no sensation like that of a woman’s oral ministrations. I don’t care how adept a man is, or how much guidance he has received. The special kindred knowledge of the intimacies hidden deep within the recesses cannot be understood by the male. No man can ever comprehend the subtle nuances like a female can. And having your own sister pleasuring you only serves to heighten the experience even more.
I tilted my seat back a little, letting my head rest back against it, and closing my eyes, tuning out the rest of the world, allowing the soft warm sensations to slowly build way down inside my core. I was in this half dream world that I was drifting in, so I really didn’t notice when Chelsea made a sharp right turn, came to a stop, and opened her window. I did notice, however, an overly perky voice saying, “Hi, I’m Toni. May I take your order?”
I sat up quickly, and the reality of my surroundings immediately registered in my foggy brain. Chelsea had pulled up to the drive in window of the local donut franchise, and to make matters worse, the voice on the other end of the intercom was that of Toni Romanello, a Senior at our high school. Captain of the Cheerleading Squad, cute face, tight little body, her long brunette hair worn in a perpetual ponytail, which bobbed and swayed when she walked down the halls, strutting her tight little backside in skin tight jeans, making the boys eyes pop out of their single thought heads.
I started to push Shaina away, but Chelsea glared at me, and whispered for all the Sisters to hear, “You will all continue doing what you’re doing unless I direct you to stop. The F. N. P. C. has nothing to be ashamed about, and nothing to hide. Be proud, my Sisters, be proud of who we are.”
Shaina looked up at me from between my legs and I felt her whole body shudder, before lowering her face once again back down into my pussy and worshiping the folds.
“I’m sorry,” Toni said, “I didn’t understand you.”
“I’m sorry, Toni,” Chelsea responded. “I was just checking the girls’ orders. May we have six large iced coffees, three with milk and sugar, two with milk, and one light with half and half?”
“Certainly,” Toni answered, “Would you like anything else?”
“Please. A dozen mixed donuts, and six plain bagels, cut, three with vegetable spread, two with cream cheese, and one with nothing on it.”
“Pull up to window three,” Toni said robotically. “Your order comes to “$34.87.”
As Chelsea pulled the SUV around to the next window, she lowered the window on the door behind her, opening up the left side of the vehicle for anyone to look in. Toni was greeted by the sight of five naked girls, three of whom were masturbating while one was eating me out!.
“Ch....Chelsea,” she exclaimed, startled. “H.......Hanna?”
“Hi, Toni,” Chelsea said nonchalant, handing her two twenties through the window. “You can keep the change.”
Toni didn’t move for a minute, her eyes flying around the interior of the car, trying to comprehend what she was seeing.
“We’re in a hurry, Toni. May we please have our order?”
“Oh.......oh....s....sure, Chel......Chelsea,” she stammered, trying to regain her composure. Toni handed the box of donuts and the bag with the bagels to Chelsea, and then the two trays with the iced coffees.
“Good to see you, Toni,” Chelsea said with a smile as she drove off.
“Well done, my Sisters,” Chelsea said. “I’m very proud of you all. Get something to eat.”
There wasn’t a lot of conversation for most of the trip. I’m pretty sure it was a combination of our experience with Toni and the fact that none of us had any real idea about where we were going and what we would be doing. It was Lauren who broke the silence. “I have to pee, Chelsea,” she said.
“Me too,” Shaina echoed.
“Okay,” Chelsea said, glancing back at them and smiling. “I’ll watch for a place to stop.”
“Where can we stop, Chelsea,” Lauren asked? “We’re all naked! We can’t just walk into a rest stop like this.”
“I’ll take care of it, Sister. Just be patient.”
We kept driving for another ten or fifteen minutes, when Chelsea pulled off the exit ramp from the highway and took a two lane state road. She drove down that a little ways and then turned into a quiet little narrow road, not even two lanes. Sparsely populated, an occasional house or barn set back from the road was all we saw. Chelsea pulled the Land Rover over to the side of the road and stopped.
“I want you to get out here, Lauren. You can squat in front of the car and pee in the street while we all watch you. Shaina, you may go after your Sister is finished.” She paused a moment, thinking, and added, “In fact, I want you all to go, in the same place. Mix your sacred waters together.”
We all got out of the car, except for Chelsea, and stood next to the car in a line by the side of the road as Lauren nervously looked up and down the road and all around, before squatting in the street and emptying her bladder. Shaina took her place on the hot asphalt, her bare feet stepping in the puddle of fresh urine, as she added to it..
“My Hand Maiden will clean you all before you get back in the car,” Chelsea called out through the open window. Without pause, I took my cue and knelt on the side of the road, while Lauren stood before me, spreading her folds for me with her fingers. I lapped at her, until the acrid taste was gone. Lauren headed for the car, while I cleaned Shaina, followed by Anastasia, and finally Blair. They had all gotten back in the car as I squatted to pee. Just as my bladder opened up, a car rounded the corner behind Chelsea’s car, and veered out to avoid us. They spotted me, though, right away. It was an elderly couple.
“What’s the matter with you? Were you raised in a barn, young lady,” the woman yelled out from her window. “That’s disgusting! You all get on out of here before I call the Police!”
I pinched off the stream, stood up quickly, and sprinted for the car, mortified.
The couple drove off. I looked over at Chelsea. She was smiling at me. She was also topless, having removed her blouse.
The built in G.P.S. in Chelsea’s car showed that we were only about twenty minutes away from our destination. We rode the rest of the way in total silence.
“This must be it,” Chelsea announced as we neared a turn off. We all looked around, but saw no house or any other buildings. Just a driveway winding through some trees and disappearing. We drove up the road a few minutes before a big old farm house came into view. There were three people standing in the drive near the house, two males and one female. They were all naked. Chelsea and I both recognized the female. Her bald head immediately gave her away. It was slut, Mistress Ilsa’s personal slave.
One of the naked men approached the driver’s window as we pulled up. “May I help you ladies,” he asked politely?
“I am Chelsea Waverly,” she replied, “And these are My Sister of the F. N. P. C. Mistress Ilsa invited us to attend today’s ceremonies.”
As she was speaking, slut came over and stood next to the man. She peeked into the car at the six of us. “All naked. Very nice. You seem to be able to obey directives, which will prove quite helpful.
“Chelsea,” she continued, “ You may park your car over by the edge of the field with the others, then come back and join me here. The rest of your Sisters are to get out now and go with this slave.” She paused a second, and then added, “Leave your skirt in the car, Chelsea. You shall be naked like the rest of us.”
“Of course, slut,” Chelsea answered.
Blair, Anastasia, Lauren, Shaina, and I all got out of the car, looking around. “Follow me, please,” the male slave said.
We followed him in a tight frightened group to the back of the three story house. Behind the house we joined another group of five other naked people: an older white woman, pencil thin, at least sixty; a tall muscular white woman with long blonde hair and quite possibly the largest breast implants imaginable, (They were so large as to only be described as gargantuan and grotesque, the elasticity of the paper thin fragile skin had been stretched to the point where it would seem that a simple mosquito bite would threaten them with rupturing); sara, the slave whom I recognized from when Chelsea and I met slut at Dermis in New York City; and two males, one black, and one white. The black man was mammoth, his body totally devoid of hair, every inch of his well toned body glistened. His flaccid cock was longer than I had ever seen, and swayed when he moved even the slightest bit. The white man was in his fifties perhaps, balding, a soft mushy body, more than a little paunch to his hairy sagging beer belly.
“Wait here,” our escort said as he left.
Shaina grabbed hold of my hand and whispered, “I’m afraid, Hanna,” she confided, looking at all the naked bodies standing around. “What’s going to happen to us?”
I put my arms around her and hugged her close to me. “Don’t worry, Shaina,” I reassured her. “There’s nothing to worry about. “We’ve been invited to participate in the ceremonies that are being held here today. That’s all. Nothing bad will happen to any of us. It’ll be fine, I promise.”
We were left alone, standing around for a while, but I have no idea how long. Two more naked people were brought back behind the house and joined us as we waited. One of them was a morbidly obese white woman, mid to late fifties, totally unkempt and filthy, black and blue bruises splotched her arms and legs, as well as her heavily scarred sagging and breasts, and corpulent belly. Her head was covered in long strands of greasy looking garishly dyed flaming red hair. Her pubic hair was long and graying, and extended from her navel out across her jiggling thighs. The other person was a man, white, average build and height, thirties probably, his body almost completely covered in tattoos, neck to ankles and wrists, with multiple piercings in his eyebrows, ears, nose, lips, nipples, cock and scrotum. The ones in his cock and scrotum were thick heavy looking steel rings, some two inches in diameter.
When slut returned, there was another woman with her, who was dressed in the finest looking equestrian apparel: Black crushed velvet riding jacket, with a satin collar, elbow length soft black leather gloves, white collared shirt with a long thin black tie, gray jodhpurs, spit shined black leather English riding boots, and a riding cap, and a menacing looking fine leather riding crop. “I brought both my gelding and my mare with me today, so I would think four more would be quite sufficient,” I heard her saying to slut as they got within hearing range. “Given the terrain and the size of the cart,” she mused. “Two by two, by two.”
The woman walked among us, seeming to scrutinize each one, although some more she looked at more carefully than the rest. When she got to me, she removed one of her gloves and felt my thighs and buttocks, ran her hands across my flat stomach, pressing in against my abs. She felt my shoulders and upper back, had me raise my arms up over my head and then she cupped my breasts and jiggled them, watching as they bounced freely.
“She’ll do nicely,” she said to slut, who wrote something down on a clip board. “Also the blonde, and these two men,” she added, indicating the black slave and the man with all the tattoos. “You can use the rest. These four will take care of my requirements I should think.”
“Alright, Mistress Gretchen. As You wish You can take the ones You want and get them all prepped.”
Then slut spoke to us, “slaves thomas, michael, hanna, and sharon are to go with Mistress Gretchen and you are to obey her as you would your owners. The rest of you are to come with me for your assignments.”
I gave Shaina a quick hug, before leaving her so I could follow the other three who had been chosen by Mistress Gretchen. Single file we walked over to a small barn, where a full sized van with a trailer had been parked. The trailer had a shiny black wooden horse carriage sitting on it. A man and a woman were kneeling upright, at attention, next to each other by the trailer. They were both in their late forties, early fifties. And like us, they were also naked.
“We’re quite short of time here,” Gretchen announced, getting our attention instantly, “So please pay close attention to what I have to say.
“Have any of you had any equestrian experience?”
“I have had some, Mistress,” the black man offered.
“And your name is....?”
“I am Thomas, Mistress.”
“The rest of you are beginners?”
“Yes,” we all said quietly. I wasn’t even sure what she was referring to at that point.
“Have you all been cleaned inside and out today,” she asked?
“Yes, Mistress,” they all replied, except me. Again, having no clue whatsoever as to what she was talking about.
“And what about you,.........what’s your name?”
“I’m Hanna, Mistress Gretchen, and if you will pardon my ignorance, I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“Have you bathed today?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I replied proudly.
“And have you had your insides cleansed?” She waited, and hearing no reply she added impatiently, “Have you been given an enema today?”
“N.........no............no, Mistress,” I answered, my pride reduced to total embarrassment and fear at what she was suggesting.
“Alright then, let’s get this organized. King, you will take Little Missy here and cleanse her throughly. Two bags should do it. Princess, you take Miss Melons here and put on her make-up and head gear. I’ll start dressing these two studs in their tack.”
The two slaves eagerly sprang up from their kneeling position and in unison chimed, “Yes, Mistress Gretchen.”
The male, King, walked over to me. He was average in all manner, except for two things that could only be described as both remarkable and shocking. The first was the size of his cock. Flaccid, completely limp, is was easily ten inches long! Even with all the countless hours of porn videos I had watched with Chelsea, this was the biggest one I had ever seen! And he had a massive bright shiny steel ring in the end of it, that traveled up the pee hole and exited from the bottom, underneath the dark purple head. The second was the fact that King was, as Mistress Gretchen had described him to slut, a gelding. His balls were missing! There was no nut sac hanging beneath his dangling monstrous member!
“Seems to me, Little Missy, that Mistress Gretchen wants your innards cleaned out. My best advice to you is to try and relax, it’ll go much easier for you if you try ‘n keep your muscles loose. Hell, in time I’m sure you’ll come to not only look forward to an internal, you’ll enjoy it was well. Princess cums every time we cleanse her out! She looks forward to her daily ritual for Mistress.”
He lead me over to a sawhorse, made me bend at the waist, resting my stomach on the crossbeam. He took four short lengths of twine and bound me to it, wrists and ankles. He left me there a few moments and came back, saying, “Now remember what I tol’ you, Little Missy. Focus on stayin’ loose n’ reee-laxed!”
I felt his finger searching for my rear hole, lubricating it with something he had on his finger. That was replaced by a cold hard object. “Here it comes, now. You relax and you’ll get through it quicker and easier.”
I felt pressure start to build deep in my gut, like when an explosive bout of diarrhea hits. It kept building and building. As he pulled the tube from my rectum, he said, “Now you hafta hold it in as long as you can, Little Missy. A few minutes at the least. “Ya understand me?”
“Y....yes,” I grunted, as my distended belly was cramping up in terrible spasms. My mind was consumed by the intense pain in my lower belly. All I wanted at that moment was to expel the liquid King had pumped up deep inside of me.
“Another minute, Little Missy. Sixty seconds. You can wait that long, now can’t you?”
“......I don’t kn.........know,” I stuttered. “I.....I don’t th.....think I can.!”
I held on, as long as I could, until it felt I was no longer in control of my sphincter. It felt like I literally exploded, shooting liquid and expelling air that had also been pumped inside me.
“That’s it, Little Missy, now don’t that feel good?”
I was humiliated like never before. Pissing in front of someone is one thing, but what I just did removed any and all traces of a false sense of modesty that I still had.
“One more bag, now little Missy, and you’ll be squeaky clean,” King said, inserting a nozzle into my butt again. The sensations were the same, gradually building cramps and spasms consumed my thoughts.
The second one I held inside me a bit longer, before expelling it, with a lot of gas, noisily. King took a garden hose cold and hosed my crotch throughly with the icy cold well water, before patting me dry with a coarse towel. His task completed, he took my arm and lead me back to Mistress Gretchen, who had just finished getting the two men into elaborate leather harnesses.
“Take that little filly to Princess, and have her send Miss Melons to me when she’s finished with her make-up. Tell her the filly here needs to be done heavy.”
“Yes, Mistress Gretchen,” King said, grabbing hold of my arm again and leading me over to the van.
Princess had transformed the buxom blonde completely. Her eyebrows had been darkened with pencil. She had shiny bluish silver eye shadow with extra long thick false eyelashes. Her lips were coated in blood red lipstick and outlined with a lip liner about two shades darker. Red rouge had been applied heavily to her pancake sized areolas, which had made the taut skin jump out in stark contrast to her milky white complexion.
On her head, she wore a harness which encircled the top of her head and under her jaw. It had blinders, reins, and a black rubber bit, which she clasped tightly between her teeth. The bit had been tightened in such a fashion as to give her expression a frighteningly sardonic smile. Colorful long wispy feathered plumes in red, purple, and black were attached atop her head. I didn’t get a lot of time to look at her, before Princess said, “This one’s all done, King. Take her back to Mistress Gretchen. I’ll finish up this little filly and bring her over myself when I’m done.”
“Okay, Princess,” he said, letting go of my arm and taking Miss Melons away. “Mistress Gretchen said to do make sure and do this one up heavy.”
“Alright,” she answered, “I’ll take care of it for Her.” Then turning to me she said, “Have a seat in the chair, Little Missy, and listen carefully. We don’t want to make Mistress Gretchen wait. That will not make Her happy!” She handed me some soft foam spacers, and said, “Put these between your toes while I get the polish.”
I sat down and used the spacers to spread my toes apart. Princess knelt down in front of me and painted my toenails blood red. She used the same color on my fingernails. “Now sit still and don’t smudge them,” she admonished me. Leaning forward, she applied some black eyebrow pencil several times and then stuck on a set of ultra long false eyelashes. It felt strange every time I blinked looking through the long lashes.
Eye shadow was next, the same bluish silver color I had seen on the blonde. Facial blush, ruby red lipstick, applied extra thick, and a lip liner a few shades darker completed my make-up. She used the same facial blush on my areolas, making them prominent on my chest. “You sit still now, Little Missy. I’ll be right back.”
Princess went to the back of the van and was rummaging through some boxes. When she came back, she had some leather harnesses in her hands. “Head gear first,” she said, holding up a tangled bird’s nest of leather and silver.
Careful so as not to smudge the meticulously applied make-up on my face, she placed the harness over my head and slid it into position, aligning the straps as she went. A thick rubber bit, one inch in diameter was pulled into my mouth, forcing it open and pulling my cheeks back into an obscenely grotesque and broad smile. The apparatus had the same blinders I had seen on the blonde, and they effectively made my peripheral vision non-existent. Princess set about to adjusting the various silver buckles and straps in the soft supple leather to secure the device to my head. Satisfied that everything was just so, she selected some red, black, and purple plumes and attached them to the top of the head gear. King had returned and was standing nearby, watching as Princess got me equipped.
“Stand up,” she said, reaching for another leather contraption.
From the rear, she pulled a leather corset around my waist. This leather contrasted sharply with the harness, as it was hard, thick, and stiff, binding my waist, lifting my breasts up high, and restricting my breathing as she pulled on the leather laces. Very thorough in tightening the laces, Princess constricted my waist several inches by the time I was fully corseted. Straps on the sides of the corset bound my arms to my sides above my elbows, allowing me only the freedom of lifting and lowering of my arms from my elbows. It was at that moment when I discovered, much to my embarrassment, that the hard rubber bit prevented me from swallowing my saliva. An abundant outpouring of the warm liquid cascaded over my lower jaw and spilled between my uplifted breasts, working its way down my stomach to my belly.
“Go over there with Melons, it’s time for me to get dressed too,” Princess said to me.
“Mistress specifically said to ‘Do this one heavy.’ Haven’t you got an extra pair of shoes and gloves that might fit her? She looks to be about the same size as you, Princess.”
“I think I do, King,” Princess said. “Give me a minute to check.”
She climbed into the back of the van. I could hear her rummaging around obviously in search of something.
When she reappeared, she had a bizarre looking pair of very high boots in her hands. I remember thinking that hadn’t ever seen anything like them before, but upon closer inspection, I saw that I was wrong. I had seen them on a pony girl porn site once with Chelsea.
The boots were very high, actually reaching to just below the groin, with a zipper running all the way up the back, from the heel to the top, tight fitting, following the contours of a woman’s leg. They were constructed entirely out of black leather. The uppers were very soft, but the actual shoe part was extremely hard. They were so hard, in fact, that if someone were to step on your foot while you were wearing these boots, you would never even feel it.
The shoe part was designed to closely resemble a real hoof on a horse, round in shape, no heel at all, just a horse hoof, complete with an authentic steel horseshoe nailed to the bottom.
Princess had me sit on a small stool and pull on one of the boots. The design was such that my foot was forced into a position not unlike a ballerina in point. My toes pointed straight down, stretching my calf muscles taut. Princess had me stand up so she could zip up the boot. My foot was encased in a firm support in this awkward extended position.
When the second boot was on, I felt noticeably taller, standing in hyper extended tippy toe. My knees felt the strain first, followed quickly by my crushed toes.
“I didn’t pack extra gloves”, Princess said to King. “So she’s set to go.”
I was walked over to where the blonde was standing. Mistress Gretchen had already harnessed the two men to the horse carriage, closest to the wagon and was hitching up the blonde in front of the guy with all the piercings. “Over here, this side,” she called out to me. I walked over and stood on the other side from the blonde, directly in front of Thomas, the black slave and waited.
Both the two men and Miss Melons had long horse tails hanging from their asses. I was wondering how they were affixed, when Mistress Gretchen suddenly appeared at my side with a long horse tail in each hand. She held them up to my head, comparing the color with my own head of long hair. “This one looks best,” she said to no one in particular. “Bend over and spread your cute little butt for me, Little Missy.”
Obediently I did as ordered, and felt some cold gel being worked in and around my rear opening. All at once, the pressure grew, as Mistress Gretchen showed me how the tails were attached. She began shoving a thick butt plug up my ass until the large bulb was forced deep inside me, in past the protesting sphincter.
“Stand up and grab the bar,” she said.
The coarse horse hairs tickled the insides of my legs, hanging down almost to my ankles, as I stood up and grabbed the bar. Mistress Gretchen used metal snap locks to attach my hands to the bar. I turned my head to look at the blonde standing next to me. She was attached the same way as I was.
The four of us had stood there quietly for a few minutes before I heard the delicate tinkling sound of small bells approaching us. I turned in the direction of the noise and saw King and Princess walking towards us, dressed in similar tack, with horse hoof boots like the ones I was wearing. Elegant plumes, taller than our headgear sat atop their harnesses. King’s tail was jet black, while the one Princess wore was butter blonde. They each had long thin chains dangling from rings in their nipples, and each chain had five or six small bells clipped to it. Additionally, they each had a genital ring, King’s through the end of his penis, and Princess wore her’s through her clit hood. Matching chains and bells hung from these rings as well.
Mistress Gretchen got them both fastened to their places in the lead position on the carriage. She then began the task of threading long leather reins through the rings on both sides of our rubber bits in our mouths, connecting us together, front to back, in two columns of three. My column was headed by King, then me, then the black slave behind me. To my left, the column was Princess, the blonde behind her, and then the heavily pierced man. Mistress tied the long reins to the side of the driver’s seat, and then she disappeared for a few moments before she came around to inspect us each, one at a time. In her hand was the most delicate looking light lavender colored buggy whip. It was pencil thin, with the shaft being constructed of some light material, like rattan, which made it highly flexible. A thin cord hung from the end of the shaft, about three to four feet in length if I had to guess, with a small object at the end, like a tassel.
She began her inspection with the left column. I saw her hand slip between Princess’ legs, as she smiled and whispered something into her ear. The blonde was next. Fearful, I didn’t turn my head to see what was happening, but I did hear part of what Mistress Gretchen said to her. I heard, “Try not to disappoint me, you little fucking whore, or I’ll turn you over to my three Great Danes and let them have their way with you.”
“I will do my best, Mistress. I promise! Please, please..... don’t give me over to your dogs. Please, I beseech you! I’ll do anything you ask. Anything! Please.......!” The abject fear in her trembling voice was clearly evident.
Mistress continued on back to the pierced slave before I heard her stopping right behind me, at the big black. “I’ll give you your choice of any of the bitches, or studs if that’s your fancy, in this team if you can impress me,” she promised him, loud enough to insure that we all heard her.
“I’ll not let you down, Mistress,” he assured her promptly. I shuddered as images of what this exchange implied raced through my head.
She came and stood right in front of me. Her fingers deftly pinched and pulled on my right nipple, then slowly, ever so lightly, she slid it down over my stomach, to my crotch. Fiddling with my nether lips, she parted them slightly and checked for wetness. “My, what a filthy little whore you are, Little Missy. Soaking wet, like a little waterfall. I hope that big black stud picks you for later. I’d really love to see you taken for a ride on that big thick black cock of his! It’ll be fun to see how much of it you can take in this wet little hole!”
I was so scared I was shaking, and all I could do was muster a nod in response to her threat. She clipped a set of steel alligator clamps on my two nipples as well as a pair on my outer labia. Bells dangled from small chains attached to the clips. (I didn’t realize until we were moving and I heard the bells all around me, that all of us wore these bells). She slid her finger deep into my pussy several times, and wiped the wetness across my chest and face before moving forward to King.
She caressed King’s cock, massaging it, stroking it, as she whispered something quietly in his ear.
“Of course, Mistress,” he said too eagerly. “If it will please you. It would be an honor!”
Mistress Gretchen then spoke to us all: “Your primary task will be to pull my carriage. My two ponies, King and Princess have been throughly trained and respond well to the reins. All the rest of you need do is pull, and follow them. Watch King and Princess and try and copy their posture as well as their step. You are to prance together. Synchronized. In step. Keep in mind that I have a buggy whip that I am very adept in using, and that I have no qualms in using it to get your attention whenever I feel it needed.”
She walked past me, catching my eye, and climbed aboard the carriage. Across the top of my vision, I saw the tip of the whip flash by twice in lightening fast speed, catching first King and then Princess right in between their shoulder blades. Instantly, they began walking, and we all followed suit, trying to adjust our step to be in time with theirs.
King and Princess held their bodies ramrod straight, their shoulders pulled back, chests thrust forward. With each step they took, their legs came up in unison, thighs parallel with the ground, toes pointed down. It was hard work and took much concentration to copy them.
I heard the blonde next to me yelp in pain as the buggy whip sliced into her shoulder, “Lift those legs, Miss Melons, or I’ll use this whip to shred your back. And if that doesn’t motivate you, then I’ll give you over to My Danes to fuck.”
The whip sliced through the air three more times, drawing a scream from the buxom blonde.
We pulled the carriage over to the front of the big house. It was there that I saw Chelsea, naked, acting as some sort of greeter for the guests as they arrived. It looked like she was checking off names on a clip board.
Some of the guests were clothed normally, while some were dressed in fetish leather, and yet others were as naked as we were. Our task seemed to be to ferry some of the guests to the outdoor site where the ceremony would occur. Some of the guests opted to walk, while others waited in a queue for us. The carriage held four people plus Mistress Gretchen. The site was a good distance from the house, back across the long back yard, down a path through some dense woods, and then out across a broad expanse of open fields, with tall grasses blowing in the gentle breeze. The carriage was light, but with five passengers, the extra weight was immediately apparent to all six of us, and I was sweating profusely in a matter of just a few minutes. Beads of perspiration dripped from my forehead into my eyes, stinging them, but with my hands fastened as they were, I could do nothing to stop it.
Whenever Mistress Gretchen wasn’t happy with the gait of one of her ponies, a fiery flick of her whip would instantly get our legs back up high, our shoulders back, and our chests sticking out. I received more than my share of her little “reminders” that afternoon, and the marks she so adroitly placed between my shoulder blades didn’t fade completely for almost a week afterward!
On our first trip out to the ceremony site, I could see Shaina, Lauren, and Blair as we neared the drop off point. They were each standing next to a naked slave who had been tied spread eagle to a whipping frame. Shaina was stood next to the filthy obese slave, Lauren was with sara, and Blair was with the thin elderly woman. Each of my Sisters brandished a cat ‘o’ nine tails and was busy using it on the helplessly bound slave in their charge. As our passengers got out of the carriage, I could hear the Sisters offering the cat to them to use as they wished on the slaves as a pastime before the ceremony started.
On our third or fourth trip, I can’t remember which, as they mostly blurred together after the second one, we ferried three women out. Two were clothed, and one was naked. Steel ankle cuffs and a short length of chain hobbled her legs, her wrists chained together behind her back in iron shackles. The two women made the naked slave walk behind the carriage. They chained her by the steel collar around her neck to the rear of the carriage, while they rode in comfort. I could hear bits and pieces of their animated conversation as we took them for their ride. One of them, Marie, was the sister of David, the man who was having the collaring ceremony today. The other was her friend, Lesley, who, it seemed, owned the slave who was tethered to the rear of the carriage. They were both very excited about the ceremony and it’s significance.
We made about five trips out to the site, and I was parched, dead tired, my feet sore and bruised. I was completely covered in saliva, sweat and dirt, my hair a stringy and tangled mess, and my body was pink from sunburn. We were making our last return trip to the house when I finally saw Chelsea. She was standing next to Mistress Ilsa, slut, and a couple in front of the big house, all seemingly waiting for the carriage. Chelsea was naked, as was slut, but Mistress Ilsa and the couple were dressed. Mistress Ilsa was wearing a light see through white blouse with a tight black leather mini skirt. The man was wearing a tan linen suit, collared shirt, open at the neck, and polished loafers, while the woman was wearing a long simple print ankle length strap-less dress in light mixed muted pastel colors, and she was barefoot.
“We’re all ready,” Ilsa called out to Mistress Gretchen as we were pulling up, panting, thirsty, and short of breath in front of them. “Last trip for a while, then you can water your team.”
The five of them climbed into the carriage together. It was the heaviest load we had pulled all day, I was exhausted, and it was hard. A few times on our trip to the field, I lost my footing and stumbled. (Once I fell down on one knee, scraping it on the rocks that jutted out along the well worn path we used). A well placed fiery snap of Mistress' whip between my sun-burned shoulders helped me regain my footing very quickly.
After our last load of passengers got out and walked to the ceremony, Mistress Gretchen released us from the carriage. "I have to pee, Mistress," Miss Melons announced sheepishly in a half whisper.
"Go right ahead," came the reply. "I'd highly recommend you all do that, as a matter of fact, and you all should get some water as well while you're at it. I'll be hitching you all up again soon enough. You may rest in the shade of that tree over there until I call you. There should be a tub of water nearby."
"M....mistress," Miss Melons whimpered.
"Yes?"
"Where can I go?"
"Right here in the grass is fine."
"B....but....everyone will see."
"Oh my God. Are you kidding me?
"Look, I really don't care if you piss or not. That's your concern, not mine. But this is where you will do it, in plain view. Ponies have no privacy nor should they be concerned with modesty.
"Look at Thomas. He certainly has no qualms about it."
Thomas was standing a few feet away, facing us. Arms on his hips, a strong stream of golden pee arched from his erect cock and shot out into the grass. Princess spread her legs apart, and didn't squat as relieved herself as well. Not wanting to incur Mistress Gretchen's wrath, I parted my legs and peed as well, soaking the insides of my legs. I could feel the warm liquid working its way into my boots.
As promised, there was a tub of water available to us. One ladle hung on the side of the tub, which we all had to share in turn. The water was quite warm, as the tub had been placed in the direct sunlight, not under the tree. We all drank our fill, however, as the physical exercise had left each one of us parched.
I wasn't able to see the goings-on at the ceremony from where we were. I would estimate that we waited in the shade of the tree for perhaps half an hour to forty-five minutes, before Mistress Gretchen hitched us back to the carriage. (Thomas ogled my nakedness hungrily the entire time, smiling, even licking his lips, making no effort to conceal his lust for me). As she was finishing with the reins, I could see Mistress Ilsa, the man in the tan linen suit and his slave, along with Chelsea, walking towards us. The woman was now naked, head to toe. All she was wearing was a three inch wide black leather collar that fit snuggly around her throat. Attached to the collar was a silver studded black leather dog leash, which Chelsea held in her hand as she guided the slave toward the carriage. I spotted a scar. a brand on the outside of her leg.
We ferried three or four groups back to Ilsa's house, where a catered reception was held on the lawn behind the house. Formally dressed wait staff served beverages and trays of finger foods to the assembled guests as they milled about talking amongst each other. Our equestrian team was unhitched from the carriage and got out of our tack, but all of us remained naked.
I was about to go off to look for my sisters, when Mistress Gretchen grabbed my arm and said, "You'll be coming with me, little Missy."
She lead me through the pockets of guests to a wooden picnic table and benches, where Miss Melons and Thomas seemed to be waiting.
"Lie down on your back," she said to me, shoving me backwards towards the old wooden table.
I laid down as ordered.
"Spread those legs nice and wide, Little Missy, and give Thomas an eyeful of the rewards his going to reap."
My stomach flipped as I heard her words, but somehow I obeyed anyway, spreading my legs far apart, opening my sacred folds.
Miss Gretchen pulled my arms over my head as She had Miss Melons climb up on the table and kneel down straddling my head, lowering her foul smelling sweaty pussy over my face, engulfing my nose in her folds, and almost smothering me with it. Miss Melons knees pinned my arms to the table, and her thighs clamped to the sides of my head.
"I want to here this stuck up little cunt scream like a fucking pig, Little Missy. I want to watch her cum three times, right here, and right now, in front of everybody, and show us all what a slut she is."
I was having a great deal of difficulty breathing as my tongue began to probe the inner recesses of her stinking hole. It was at that moment that I realized just how turned on I was by all of this. My own twat was soaked, my clit hard as a rock, and my nipples aching with the blood rushing into them.
I felt a slight pressure at the opening of my pussy, and knew instinctively what it was. Thomas was positioning the head of his thick cock at the entrance to my sacred portal and letting it slowly but steadily make it's way inside me. I had never felt anything like this before. It seemed like he was going to keep getting deeper and deeper until he would push right up and into my stomach.
I was moaning from the tremendous pressure in my pussy, but my tongue was working in high gear on Miss Melon's clit, and I felt her body tense and her knees clasped together against my head and she came in torrents. Warm liquid spurted forcefully from her pussy, and ran into my open mouth and nose. I was choking, coughing, on the flood that squirted from her. But she kept grinding her sex down into my face.
Thomas was fucking me really hard now. Driving in and pulling almost all the way out furiously with each thrust. And yet it was at that very moment that I had my life changing epiphany. I suddenly knew, that while I liked, loved really, the pounding I was getting to my pussy, I was far more turned on by my eating out this women whom I didn't even know. I had known for a long time how much I loved worshipping the sacred folds of my sisters. Each time I was ordered to do it, I was ecstatic, thankful. And each time I was ordered to do it, I tried harder to do it better, trying to read the sister's reaction to my ministrations, to satisfy her more completely. At the same time, however, I was always mentally torn by my attraction to doing it, versus my long held belief that I should prefer men to women. But right then, at that moment, I knew I was a Lesbian, and, I also knew, that I was a submissive, with a strong compelling need to be dominated.
A sense of relief washed over me as I awakened to myself and I intensified my efforts on Miss Melons, nipping her swollen bud, sucking it into my mouth, clenching it gently with my teeth as my tongue brought her off again.
By the time she had cum for the third time, she all but collapsed off of me. Thomas was still pounding me as I opened my eyes to see that a number of people had gathered around to watch the goings-on. "Princess, you're next," Mistress Gretchen announced, and Princess climbed onto my face.
I have no recollection anymore about how many women I pleased that afternoon, as it was almost seven years ago. But, as I stated earlier, this was a life changing day for me. About a year later, I renounced my former self and all of my possessions and I became a pony in Mistress Gretchen's stable. Princess has long been retired, put out to pasture really, as she no longer possesses the strength and stamina required to pull the carts. I am now the lead filly, living in a stall in the barn. I have never been happier, or more content. Shaina comes to visit sometimes, and I do see Chelsea now and again when I'm pulling the cart at some occasion. The F.N.P.C. dissolved and scattered as the lives of the sisters took different paths.
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